


Just another day?

by TheQueenGeek28



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Experienced Sherlock, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Spanking, Uniform Kink, Unilock, Virgin John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-18 18:41:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15492225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueenGeek28/pseuds/TheQueenGeek28
Summary: Relationships, mystery, friendship and drunken nights are present in our protagonists tale as they venture to university.John Watson finally leaves his house to go to university which has it's own consequences.Sherlock Holmes is out of his house as soon as he can, he just doesn't want to be here studying with all the 'stupid people'.





	1. The greeting

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fanfic, so please be nice. Let me know if you see anything that shouldn't be there or just doesn't make sense. I am fully aware that my story writing skills aren't that great. Hope you enjoy, Lv Amy xxx ^__^.

“Have you got your toothbrush?”  
“Yes, mum” something the 18-year-old had been saying for the past hour, he could not wait to get into the car and drive away from this house, well at least until Christmas. His mum handed him the last box from the dining room that had once been filled with many more of them.  
“’Yes mum’. Be nice, you won’t see me for months, John!” She chided, before hugging her boy from behind.  
“It shall soon be Christmas.” John plastered a smile onto his face and promised not to blame his mum in the therapy sessions he was planning to get himself, she was a good smother… mother- just clingy. “And I’ll be home again.”  
“My baby boy has grown up so fast, now he’s off to a fancy uni and leaving his mother and his sister behind.”  
John sighed and hugged his mother tight, “Harry shall be fine, she has Laura, and you have your own business to run. Now I must go to beat the traffic or I’m going to spend hours on the M25.” He pulled them apart and accepted a kiss on the cheek before climbing into his car, he beat up little Kia, and pulled out of the drive.  
The drive there was a boring and uneventful 4-hour drive which included; a stop at a service station for essential fizzy drink and unhealthy food supplies, pulling over in a layby to let his engine cool down, another stop at a service station as he needed the toilet and finally taking the wrong turn to the university not once, but twice. Once he got there the place was packed with students, with there parents who clung on too long, who were being told that they could wait around the corner, who saw their child as a life line to their youth. John joined the queue and sent his mum a quick text to let her know he got here okay. She replied within seconds. 

Always by the phone John thought, shuffling forward a couple of steps, slipping the phone into his pocket.  
“Hi!” He started cheerily to a woman in front of him. Might as well talk to someone. “My name is John.”  
“My name is Molly. Travelled far today?” The petite woman asked tilting her head to one side. The bun followed, attached tightly to her crown. Despite being described as petite she was only a few of inches shorter than John, this didn’t surprise him.  
“A fair drive took 5 hours to get here.” John replied with a lightly painful smile.  
“Lord, that is a long way, I’m only down the road! Took half hour. I’m moving into halls though can’t study and live at home, it would drive me crazy.” Molly babbled on, gesturing widely.  
“No, I don’t think I could do that either. And this is plenty far away for me.” They took several steps this time, creeping closer to the sign in point. “What are you studying, Molly?”  
“Forensic science, you?”  
“Medicine”  
Molly looked at him, up and down, before speaking “you’re doing medicine? You don’t look the type.”  
“And what ‘type’ do I look like?” He tried to remain calm and neutral.  
“With that jumper, history maybe. Maybe a soft science like physiology or philosophy. I wouldn’t have guess medicine. Good for you.” Molly continued to jabber on, attempting to dig herself out of the hole. “I am sure you shall do well. We might even share a lecture or two.” I hope not, judgemental twat. John argued in his head. They settled into an awkward silence as Molly trailed off, she got out her phone and turned back around, muttering too low for John to here.  
He shook his head, of course people would judge his looks, like most of his jumpers this one had a few holes dotted about. But he loved them. And they were his.  
Eventually, John made his way to the sign in desk where a plump bored woman took his ID, looked at his face for half a second and waved him through to the next station. This room was five desks with computers and a student on one side and a HR worker on the other. Lucky, as he walked in a student got up and he was ushered over.  
“Name?”  
“John- John Watson.”  
“Date of Birth?”  
“09 03 98”  
“Your student number is... you’ll want to write this down.” He said over his glasses, John fished out his phone and opened the notebook. “88302910”  
“Okay.” John nodded his head at the information.  
“You are studying Medicine, starting at year one” it wasn’t a question, he continued “staying in shared accommodation at Newton Halls- “  
“Hang on, I’m not in shared halls.”  
“That’s what it says here, where do you think you should be?” He tone was patronising, as again he stared over his glasses.  
“Avenue Halls, an en-suite room with a single bed at hundred and ten a week.” The sandy haired man reeled off from memory. He had been excited about his own room, finally.  
“I’m sorry, that Halls where in high demand and you have been moved to Newton, shared accommodation, kitchenette area and your own bathroom between you, ohh and the bed is a three-quarter double.”  
Well that does sound nice. “I wasn’t told” John argued, he pulled out his phone and hastily scrolled through his emails.  
“I’m sorry about that, the university has been very busy with everyone moving onto one campus. The email must’ve been missed. These are your opinions if you are unhappy about this; go onto the waiting list for your preferred Halls, complain to the Halls department” he stopped.  
“Okay,” John wasn’t best happy with it, but it didn’t sound bad. Newton Halls are closer to the labs and lecture halls. “What about the cost?”  
“It is sixty-seven a week.”  
“I’ll stay where I am, at least for now.”  
“Excellent, here is your welcome pack, this contains a map of the campus, a planner, a pen and the keys to your halls. You are on the ground floor, flat one and there is one other flat on your floor, which is also shared. And that’s you done.” He past the envelope over to John who stood up and took the pack.  
“Cheers, where do I go now?” The man gestured to the far right of the room, to a sign on the wall which read ‘THIS WAY’. “Cheers again.” John followed the signs, they lead him to a room of three cameras and two desks. 

“Hi! What’s your student number?” A girl not much older than John called from behind the desk. He stepped over to her and said the number. She told him that he need his picture taken and that was the final step. John grimaced, never been one to take nice pictures, but tried to look presentable for the camera. The result wasn’t terrible but a little scary, like he had just seen a big spider before screaming and batting it away.  
“Oh well” he sighed, tucking that too in the envelope. All in all, that took John less than ten minutes but felt a lot longer. He stepped out of the building where parents were gathered waiting for their children. John walked past all of them and made his way to his car to drive it closer to his room. He drove slowly round the student village, locating his halls on the map and then his studio flat, as it could be called, close to the main buildings. All the accommodation here was brand new and had a modern, sleek, look to it. Newton halls consisted of five houses joined together, four of these had eight rooms over three floors, three bathrooms, a lengthy shared kitchen-diner and a lounge. The fifth building hosted the shared rooms, over four floors, two flats on each floor. This building also had a large basement which had a shared lounge for its residence. John pulled up outside his building and took out his suitcase from the boot. He opened the outer door and walked into the foyer where he was greeted by the smell of fresh paint and polished staircases, one leading down and the other up. To his left his flat labelled ‘one’ and on his right, number two, however the door to his flat was unlocked already. First you can’t send out a sodding email and next you leave the doors open, John fumed silently. Dragging his suitcase, John gingerly pushed open the door and peered in. The room itself was simple and clean; a little kitchen opened to a dining area on one side and the other hosted two desks facing each other, then two three-quarter beds with underbed storage, they were separated by two side tables and a door, which lead to the bathroom. Everything was either black or green, with the university colours. A man sat on the far bed, his legs crossed, and his hands made a steeple under his chin. He had a mop of unruly black curls that sprung out in all directions and his skin could allow him to camouflage into the white walls. 

“Hello” John walked into the space and plonked his case on the bed, “I’m John.”  
“I’m thinking.”  
Hello thinking, John joked silently, “I am your roommate.”  
“I’m still thinking.”  
“I’ll- I’ll get the rest of my stuff then.” John slowly walked back out of the flat, unable to process what just happened, he’s so rude. He got to his car and picked up the few boxes he had to his name and struggled back inside with them. The man had move, now he was texting on his phone at a furious tempo, his eyebrows knitted in a frown.  
“That’s it.”  
“Are you going to narrate everything you do?” The man interrogated without looking up, without slowing his pace.  
“Umm, uhh, N- no no. Sorry” John stammered out. He left one of the boxes in the kitchen and carried the other two to his bed. The other huffed, throwing the phone to the end of his bed. “I didn’t, I, you could have finished the text.”  
“Sherlock, my name is Sherlock Holmes.”  
“John Watson, where are you from?”  
“Out of town,” came the obscure answer direct to the ceiling.  
“Okay… let’s try this, why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?” John suggested, opening his suitcase.  
“You’re a trainee doctor with a history of mental health issues, you see this as your escape, but you feel guilty for leaving your father, no mother behind with your brother as he has a history of alcohol abuse. You cling to your few possessions as you don’t own anything apart from the things that you have bought with you, which explains the sweater.” This was followed by nothing, an abrupt stop with silence as the second act. Throughout this Sherlock had sat up in bed and stood to face John, he was a head taller than the sandy haired man.  
“That, that was brilliant.”  
“That’s not what people normally say.”  
“What do they normally say?”  
“Piss off.” Sherlock smiled, and John laughed.  
“No shit, Sherlock.” 

“Did I get everything right?” Sherlock turned his head to one side, like a child asking his teacher if the answer was correct, however, John shock his head.  
“Not quiet, I do have a sibling, but he is a she.”  
“Damn” came the instant reply. “Always something, one little detail that is missed.” The taller man sat back down on his bed and placed his hands under his chin. John sat down too, the suitcase pushed to the wall side, he bought his legs up to his chin.  
“How did you know about the depression?” He whispered, staring at the floor.  
“Your arm, there’s a track mark visible through one of the holes in your jumper.” It was John’s turn to swear, as he looked down at the scar “it wouldn’t be noticeable to anyone but me. Still a silly thing to do”  
“It really was, he wasn’t worth it.” John smiled rolling up his sleeves. There, as plain as day five neat track marks on his arm.  
“He?”  
“You can’t deduce that?” John mocked. “An ex-boyfriend, he wasn’t very nice. But that’s in the past and this is the now and my degree is my future.” Sherlock nodded from his bed, not pressing the matter anymore. “What are you studying?” The subject was changed to happier matters.  
“Unfortunately, forensic science as I need a degree,” Sherlock pouted.  
“Why’s it unfortunate?”  
“As I am too smart to be here really, waste of three years and all that money.”  
“Ohh I see, yeah I suppose so.” Silence fell again “I’m going to unpack now.” Sherlock nodded as he closed his eyes and looked asleep in the prayer position. John carefully placed his clothes and little trinkets around his side of the room, he plugged in his phone and unpacked the kitchen equipment. In the bathroom, there was a towel rail already attached to the door which John placed a bath towel on. He noticed that Sherlock had already placed his shower bottles in the bottom of the shower and placed his there too; high end conditioner from god knows where next to Aldi own brand. It works for me, John sighed, he should get that on a t-shirt.  
“All done and sorted.”  
“Again with the narration, John.”  
“Sorry, don’t realise I’m doing it. Tea?”  
“White, two sugars.”


	2. The drunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this week, I have wrote future chapters but planning how to get there is hard.   
> lv Amy Xxx ^__^.

After the tea, which Sherlock let get cold, he had headed out and left John by himself in the room. John noticed that he hadn’t taken his keys and huffed at the prospect of staying up, he wasn’t one to go out partying anyway. Finally alone with his thoughts, the small man reflected on the day and, more importantly, Sherlock. John thoughts drifted to the delicate fingers that rested below his chin and how a single ring of simple silver wrapped around his index finger. How he smelt of smoke, a filthy habit John added, and a dark cherry aftershave. And how he had known about everything without John telling him and how he still didn’t know anything about him. 

John made himself a cup of tea and curled up in his bed with a laptop and a packet of biscuits. His Facebook was preloaded, and a quick search here revealed no one of the name ‘Sherlock Holmes’. Disappointed, although not hugely surprised about this, John opened a new tab and Googled his roommate. Nothing. Google, for once in his life, had failed him. He gave up and opened Netflix instead. By the end of the second episode of ‘Anne with an E’, he had munched his way through half the packet and was on his second cup of tea. The time was just after half past seven and John reckoned that Sherlock wouldn’t be back just yet so headed out to the student union for some food.  
He past the rest of the halls and ventured into one of the smaller buildings. Inside, people sat in small clumps around circular tables, on one side a booth style seat that followed the table round and the other black plastic chairs. In the far corner there was a bar surrounded by students. The décor was a simple black and white, designed for easiness to clean and a tidy finish. John headed straight for the bar and picked up a menu.  
“John?” A chubby man turned away from his friend to question him.  
“Yeah?”   
“It’s Mike, Mike Stanford. Do you remember me?” The man fiddled with his glasses nervously.  
“Oh god, yeah from back home. I haven’t seen you in years.” John’s childhood memories of this man came flooding back “where did you move to?”  
“Ahh, the first time it was to Birmingham then to London then to the country.”  
“Jeez,” John commented, “sounds like fun.” There was a pause before John asked, “what brings you here?”  
“I heard the courses where good, I applied, I got in.”  
“Fair enough, what you studying?”  
“English literature.” Mike said proudly, readjusting his glasses. John smiled in response as I was Mike’s turn to order. He was then invited to sit with Mike and his friends which he agreed to. The rest of the evening past with John and Mike telling tales of their childhood to Mike’s flatmates and John telling them about the mix up with his flats and Sherlock. Apparently, Sherlock’s name was known in London, to the police.  
“Nothing bad, just a bit of a quirky fellow that turns up at crime scenes, solve it and walks away like there isn’t a dead body on the floor.” Mike frowned “my dad uses to work in the morgue and he was all the ladies talked about.”   
Conversation then returned to school and university life and soon it was gone eleven, John made his excuses and left. He stumbled back to the room, a little tipsy after a couple. Unlocking the second door, John called to his roommate but found the flat empty. The small man took off his jacket and hung it over the back of the chair then put the kettle on. John left the newly brewed tea on his table before having a short shower and putting on a pair of Hufflepuff pyjama bottoms and an old shirt with a faded logo. He set his treasured laptop on the cabinet, to stop it over heating, and continued the Netflix show he had started earlier. 

Tap, tap, tap, the sound of fingers on glass.   
“Jawwwn?” A muffled whine. “Jawn let me in.” He tapped the glass again making the sleeping man stir. “Ohh, wake up!” Sherlock shouted through the window. John shot up in bed and ducked behind a pillow as if to defend himself from an attack.   
“Please don’t,” he fumed back at the imaginary intruder.   
“John it’s me, I didn’t bring my keys, let me in,” Sherlock tutted, tapping his foot as he watched John come out from behind the pillow and glare at him. “Open the door.” This only annoyed John further who threw himself out of bed.   
“What time do you call this?”  
“Who are you? My mother? Going to tell me off for smoking as well?” Sherlock mocked, sweeping into the flat and flouncing down on his bed without so much as taking his coat off.   
“Well actually… As a trainee doctor… I really should…” John tried three time to tell him that yes, he would.   
“And how would you do that?” Sherlock rose, gracefully taking off his coat and chucking that onto the table, advancing on John.   
“It’s none of my business what you do, I just know what it does to your lungs.” John squeaked, being push back against the wall. Sherlock smirked at this reaction, eyes darting over his face.  
“But you want it to be?”  
“I’m sorry?”  
“You want it to be your business.”  
“Ohh, goodnight Sherlock” the smaller man ducked out of the arms of the taller.   
“You like me?” Sherlock mused spinning around, grinning like the Chester Cat at the conclusion he had deduced. John, however, was less then pleased at this, yes, he did like the look of Sherlock and in a bar, he would probably hit on him. But this was ridiculously fast, and stupid. Yes really quiet stupid.  
“I barely know you,” came the retort.  
“Ohh,” Sherlock bounced onto his bed “you want to be boring.” He was still grinning.  
“Well excuse me for wanting to know you better before throwing myself at you.”  
“I am not! You just seem different, John.” His body almost crumpled from a confident man to a curious child “less like a knob than the others.” The other scoffed in response but stopped when he saw how vulnerable Sherlock looked. His big grey eyes staring up over his knees he now hugged, long arms wrapped around his legs.   
“That’s good at least,” John’s weak attempted at comforting Sherlock was followed up with an even weaker “I’m not a knob but, I tell people the truth, and some people don’t like that.”  
“I don’t mind.”  
“You’re drunk Sherlock, you met me today, you should probably go to sleep. I’m going food shopping tomorrow if you want to come?” John reasoned with the stubborn man, who nodded in response. Sherlock unfolded himself from the bed and went into the en-suite. John sighed, trust his luck he would a child for a roommate. He laid down on his bed and rolled to face the wall. He just seemed a bit different that was all, just different. 

No sooner had John drifted of to sleep, Sherlock banged out of the bathroom clad in nothing more than a towel. The smaller man grumbled at the intrusion, rolled over and went back to sleep again. Sherlock smirked, dropped his towel and got into bed.

Morning soon shone through the open window, annoyingly for John, onto his face causing the man to stir. After five minuets of debating the stupidity of the sun, John rolled out of bed and started his morning ablutions. Opting out of a shower, John pulled on a pair of shorts and went out for a morning run. By the time he had run the area of the campus, and gotten lost twice, John was pinked face and sweaty. He fished the keys out of his pocket and headed straight for the shower, Sherlock still fast asleep. As he excited the shower, he exited the bathroom naked, not expecting Sherlock to awake yet, he’d left his clean kit in the draws.   
“Hello John” Sherlock was sat upright in bed with his violin tucked under his chin.   
“Mother fucker” John swore, diving under his duvet.  
“Don’t hide on my account, I didn’t deduce you were a nudist.”  
John squeaked, remerging from his hiding spot “I thought you were asleep!”  
“No John, obviously not” Sherlock mocked “I am not wearing anything either, I prefer to sleep that way. Does that bother you?”  
“It bothers me that we’re both naked now, yes.”  
“Why?”  
“I find it awkward, haven’t been naked in front of anyone.” Virgin, from that blush and how John refused eye contact, Sherlock added it to John’s file in his Mind Palace. “Let’s get dressed, so we can go shopping. Still up for that?” John shimmied to the end of his bed, duvet wrapped around himself. Sherlock nodded in agreement, picking up yesterday’s pair of boxers and dragging them on quickly. With his modesty covered, he went to an unopened suitcase at the foot of his bed, this allowed John to put his own underwear on and pull out a clean t-shirt and jeans. When he looked back to Sherlock, he wore a black shirt and black jeans which bore a designer brand label.   
“Hungry? Sherlock offered a smile.  
“Yeah sure, want to eat first.”  
“How about on the way? I know a nice café below a building that someone, who I got off a drug charge owns.” Sherlock rolled up his sleeves as he spoke.   
“Tell me about it on the way, have an address?”   
“Of course.” He picked up his keys and the two men made their way to John’s car. “This is what you drive?”  
“Yep, get in, or you can walk to the shops.” John climbed in the front seat and started the car; the taller man followed a moment later. 

The car journey consisted of Sherlock recalling the way he got Mrs Hudson off a drug charge and made her husband disappear, silently. No one cared that he was gone, so no one asked any questions. This account was peppered with John’s reactions and the odd question. After this case was recounted the rest of the journey past in silence, which John didn’t mind. Once they got to the store, they grabbed a trolley each and parted ways, John said when they were done to meet at the car. He picked up the uni basics of pasta, tuna, tea bags, more pasta and did I mention pasta because it is so true and swiftly paid and shoved it in the boot of his car. Sherlock, however, didn’t turn up for another hour, his trolley surprisingly empty with just a few bags.   
“What took you so long?” John mused from the driver’s seat.   
“I couldn’t find the nicotine patches that I like.” Sherlock shrugged, before about turning and returning his trolley.   
“But you smoke?”  
Sherlock signed and as if talking to a child replied, “but I’m trying to quit.”  
“No need to be rude. What else did you buy, something healthy?”  
“I don’t eat much, slows me down.” The taller man shifted in his seat and pulled out his phone.  
“But you need to eat food.”  
“Sometimes, stop pestering. You’re not my mother.”  
“No, you’re old enough to look after yourself.” And he left it at that, returning to the flat in silence.


End file.
